Or the Girl Dies

by Rachel Rust

  Novotny had regained consciousness after Eddie slapped him around a bit in the alley. He then left, handcuffed in the back of a police car driven by Sergeant Diaz. From the murmurs of conversation around me, Novotny had been investigated by the police’s internal affairs earlier in the year, but had been cleared when no evidence showed any wrongdoing. But when The Barber forced him to get Eddie to call his cell phone, the FBI made the connection between the two. And the capture of The Barber meant the capture of the Barber’s phone—concrete proof of the communication between The Barber and Novotny. It was going to be a wee bit difficult for Novotny to explain those phone calls. The only hope he had left was that his thousand-watt smile might make him some good friends in prison.

  “All right, we have your number,” Krissy said, making one final note on her pad of paper. “We’ll be in contact if we need anything else, and if you think of anything else, just reach out, okay?”

  I nodded, then slipped out the door between two police officers.

  “Natalie, wait up,” Eddie said from behind me. I turned to him. The swelling around his stitched cut had reduced, but left behind a black and blue ring. In addition to that, he had a swollen cheek and cut chin from the basement, and a black left eye, courtesy of The Barber. “I’m gonna follow you home, make sure you get there okay.”

  “You don’t have to. You’re busy here.”

  “I almost didn’t follow you home last time.” He glanced around at the police tape and lights. “Good thing I did.”

  “All right,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “Follow me if you must. But I gotta go now ‘cause school starts in less than an hour.”

  “Careful, your lady boner for school’s showing again.”

  I laughed and swatted at him. “Shut up.”

  He got into his gray pickup without another sarcastic remark, then followed right behind me all the way to my house. Josh’s car was parked in the driveway. He was in the kitchen buttering toast when we walked in. Without a word, I ran up and threw my arms around him. He pulled back with a confused look on his face.

  “What happened to your face?” he asked me. He then nearly gasped at Eddie’s face. “Jesus, Greer, what the hell happened to you?”

  The name Greer made me laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Josh asked.

  “Wow, Josh,” I said, catching a glimpse of the time on the microwave. It was seven-fifteen. “There’s a lot you need to know before school starts.”

  “Like what?”

  Eddie and I glanced at one another. He nodded to the chair and told Josh to sit. Josh sat. We filled him in as best we could, using bite-sized pieces of information. Once he absorbed a little bit of the story, we fed him a bit more.

  Josh placed a hand on top of his head. “I thought I felt a little groggier than usual this morning. And my car wasn’t parked in the same spot. Figured I had just smoked some bad shit or something.”

  Eddie and Josh sat at the kitchen table, continuing to talk, as I rushed upstairs to get somewhat ready for school. Wet hair, no-makeup, leggings and a sweatshirt—it was going to be a full-on casual day at Kennedy High. The cut on my cheek wasn’t as bad as I had feared, but the swollen tissue around it would be hard to explain.

  “Tell them you got into a car accident,” Eddie said as I poured a glass of orange juice.

  Josh nodded. “That’s a good one, and say I was in the car, too, so I can confirm it for you.”

  I shoved a bite of blueberry Pop-Tart in my mouth. “What about Kyle?”

  “Kyle should be cool,” Josh said. “He got completely baked last night. If he remembers anything funny, we can just deny it and he’ll think he’s going crazy.”

  “What about when other people start asking about Victor Greer?” I asked. “Like ‘why did he suddenly disappear right before graduation?’ and stuff like that?”

  Eddie smiled. “Poor kid must’ve gotten relocated in witness protection again.”

  “Damn, dude,” Josh said with a laugh. “People at school would flip if they knew who you really were. It’s gonna be hard to keep quiet about that one.”

  With a slight grin, Eddie motioned to the gun on his hip

  Josh put his hands up. “Good enough for me. My mouth’s shut.”

  “Come on, Josh,” I said with a glance at the clock. “We’ve gotta go.”

  Josh and I decided to ride together to school in my car. But only after Eddie promised me that he’d say goodbye again before leaving for New York.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Oh my God.” Sophia stared at my cheek, eyes wide, as I gathered books from my locker. “Did someone hit you?”

  My gut twisted. I hated lying to her, and the emotions of the evening were still bubbling just under the surface. I wanted her to know what happened. I wanted comfort. I wanted to vent. I wanted pity. But instead, I waved her question away with a casual flick of my hand and said, “Of course not. Josh and I got into a car accident.”

  Her eyes went even wider. “And you didn’t call or text me?”

  “It was really late. I didn’t want to wake you.” The truth about the evening would eventually come out. Maybe, given the seriousness of the crimes, my name would be kept confidential as a witness, and not broadcasted in the news. But it wouldn’t really matter. People would know. I only hoped I could make it the next few days until graduation before rumors took hold in the school hallways.

  Sophia looked at my government notebook. “Did you at least get your assignment finished?”

  “No, Ed—Victor didn’t finish his part. I’ll just have to talk to Mr. Kellen about it.”

  Sophia rolled her eyes. “Victor’s such a douchebag.”

  I wanted to laugh and smack her at the same time. I couldn’t totally disagree with the name-calling—Victor Greer had been a bit of a douchebag—yet she was too clueless to have a real opinion of him. No one at school knew Victor Greer like I did and that brought a smile to my face. I knew his secrets. I was part of his secrets. And always would be.

  The stares in the hallways were constant, but few people had the guts to ask me what had happened to my face. Though my homeroom teacher, Ms. Iverson, asked right away, probably hoping to be the savior in some juicy abusive boyfriend story. She almost looked disappointed when I said car accident.

  Brody’s desk chairs were glaringly empty all morning, but no one made any comments. But by lunch time, people buzzed about him. The gossip had started already. He was sick. His family pulled him out of school. He had been in the car accident with Josh and me and was in the hospital. I told people he hadn’t been in the car, but the rumors persisted.

  The stares to my face continued unfettered throughout the day. Everyone wanted to see the car accident girl—and wasn’t it amazing that Josh walked away unscathed? All the girls were thankful his handsome mug hadn’t been ruined.

  People filed into Mr. Kellen’s room at the last period of the day. Jenna DeBoer bounced in, a big smile on her face. But the smile slowly faded as time ticked by and Brody’s desk remained empty. Her French manicured fingernails drummed the desktop as she kept her eyes on the classroom door.

  “What the hell happened to you?” Kyle asked, taking his seat right in front of me.

  “Josh and I got into a car accident, didn’t you hear?”

  He stared at my cheek. “You ever find Victor? Or his cousin?”

  I picked at my short, non-manicured fingernails, remembering our plan to make Kyle think he was going crazy. “What are you talking about?”

  “Victor. You and him came over to my house last night.” His brow wrinkled. “Didn’t you?”

  I slowly shook my head. “No. Why would Victor Greer and I come over to your house?”

  Kyle thought for a moment, then shook his head with a laugh. “Holy hell, I must’ve gotten totally blasted last night.” He turned around, still chuckling to himself.

  I rolled my eyes behind his back. He was even more of an idiot than I had previously thought. Sophia
deserved so much better.

  Mr. Kellen closed the classroom door after the bell rang. He glanced at the two empty desks in the room. No Victor. No Brody. He shook his head and muttered something under his breath about “kids today.”

  Sophia and Kyle went first in presenting the 1950s. After they finished, I gave Sophia a thumbs up as she took her seat. Jenna DeBoer then walked to the front of the classroom by herself. “Sorry, Mr. Kellen,” she said. “I don’t know where Brody is. But I have our full project.”

  Mr. Kellen told her to proceed and she did a fine job presenting the assignment without a partner. Maybe there was something to being a cheerleader, a comfort that came with standing in front of a crowd. There was a reason I wasn’t a cheerleader—I hated being in front of a crowd. And there was also the slight problem of having no rhythm.

  Everyone clapped for Jenna when she finished. Even me.

  I was called up next. The room fell silent. Mr. Kellen tried not to look at my cheek, and failed. He didn’t ask any questions, though. Teachers were no doubt every bit as gossipy as students, so he had probably heard about my unfortunate car accident.

  “Well,” Mr. Kellen said, “I see Mr. Greer is also not here. Do you have the assignment, Miss Mancini?”

  My mouth opened and then the classroom door opened. Eddie walked in. The silence of the room was replaced by wide-eyed gasps. Then whispers. I clenched my arms to stop from hugging him, and pursed my lips to stop from laughing. He had cleaned up at some point during the day. The sculpting mud had been washed out, reverting his hair back to its natural messy state. A clean square of gauze was over the stitches near his temple. The rest of his face was a hodge-podge of cuts, scrapes, and bruises.

  “Nice of you to join us, Victor,” Mr. Kellen said, his voice stammering a bit. He stared at Eddie’s face for a while before finally speaking again. “After you give your presentation, you can go down to the office and explain your tardiness.”

  “Sure thing.” Eddie stepped up next to me in front of the class.

  The presentation went pretty well considering we had never practiced. I went over the highlights of the paper, important events, and the social and political changes of the decade. Then I shared my interview I had done with my dad. Next, Eddie drew out his own piece of paper and went on to talk about an interview he did with his mother. Her great-uncle had worked for NASA when the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded in 1986. Classroom eyes stuck to his face as he read it, although they didn’t appear to be looking at his wounds. Everyone was silent, listening intently, probably wondering why Victor Greer was suddenly so well-spoken and prepared. He was supposed to be half-asleep, not giving a shit about school.

  When Eddie finished, he gave his typed paper to Mr. Kellen and the class applauded us.

  “Was that a real interview?” I whispered.

  “Yeah, I called my mom this morning.”

  I stared into his dark eyes, one slightly reddened. “Why’d you do that? You didn’t have to.”

  “Because Columbia shouldn’t miss out on you.”

  Mr. Kellen stepped in front of us before I could reply. “To the office, Victor.”

  Eddie grinned and gave me a wink. Then he disappeared out the door and my heart fell to the floor.

  I took my seat and only half-listened as pairs of classmates explained different decades. Outside the window, the budding trees swayed in the cool wind. My fingers and toes twitched, legs bounced up and down, ready to bust out of the school to hunt down Eddie. My stomach twisted with unpleasant thoughts that maybe this classroom visit had been his idea of a final goodbye. But I needed to see him again, away from the watchful eye of Mr. Kellen and the nosy eyes and ears of the school.

  When the bell finally rang, ending the school day, I launched out of my seat. My car was parked in the farthest row, having been one of the last to arrive. It was by sheer luck that Josh and I had arrived on time at all that morning.

  Flapping in the breeze was a white sheet of paper under my windshield wiper. In black sharpie, it read, Gravel road. I shoved the paper into my pocket and got in the car.

  The drive south out of town looked completely different in daylight. Everything was green with new life. New buds and small leaves, green grasses. Even the evergreen trees looked alive with spring.

  I found the gravel road near McNally’s easily. It was distinguishable by its heavy tree-lined perimeter. Fifty feet down the gravel, I parked behind the black Trans Am. Eddie was leaned against it, arms crossed over his chest. He had on the same t-shirt he had worn last week in the library, the gray one with the Nike swoosh through a small circle. Except now I knew it wasn’t a circle. It was an O…an Ohio State t-shirt.

  “Nice car,” I said, getting out of mine.

  He grinned back at it. “Figured I’d drive it one last time.”

  “When are you leaving for New York?”

  “Tonight.”

  I nodded, unsure of what to say. Unsure of how I felt. I wanted to tell him not to leave, to stay in Rapid and make me laugh and drive me around occasionally in his stupid car. But I wanted him to go home, for his own sake. He didn’t belong here. He had a life and he deserved to go live it.

  I leaned against the Trans Am next to him. “Thanks for helping me with the assignment.”

  “Of course.”

  A wave of bashfulness sent my gaze down to the ground, but I forced my eyes back up to meet Eddie’s. “I’ll never forget you,” I said.

  He grabbed my hand. With a pen retrieved from his pocket, he wrote a phone number in my palm.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “My phone number,” he said. “My real number.”

  I stomach twisted with girly delight at the sight of the digits. A boy gave me his phone number—an FBI boy with a badge and a gun. That definitely raised the bar for all the other boys in the universe.

  “Let me know when you get to New York,” he said. “I’ll give you the ten cent tour.”

  “Won’t you be too busy to show some silly college kid around?”

  He smiled. “Not if she’s the type of person who can take down a major crime boss and get an A on a school assignment all in one day.”

  I laughed.

  He turned and opened his car door—my stomach sank, not ready to say goodbye. He glanced at my hand. “Seriously, give me a call.”

  “I will. Promise.”

  He smiled and moved toward the open door. Without any conscious thought, I grabbed a hold of his t-shirt and pulled him to me. My arms wrapped around his neck and I buried my face into his chest. His warm arms enclosed around me, their grip intensifying as we stood entwined, bathed in wind.

  “Thank you,” I whispered into him.

  “For what?”

  “For a night I’ll never forget as long as I live.”

  “I’m not entirely sure that’s a good thing.”

  I pulled back and looked into his eyes. “It is a good thing. We got the bad guys and we survived.”

  He grinned and caressed his thumb against my cheek. “We sure did.” My eyes fluttered at his soft touch and before he could pull away, I hooked a hand behind his neck and pressed my lips to his. To my surprise, he didn’t pull back. His hand cupped my jaw and pulled me in closer to him. It was a long, entwined kiss and I never wanted it to end, but eventually, I had to step back for a gulp of air. And a dollop of sanity.

  His hand slipped from my face, brushing against my shoulder. “You said if we both survived last night that you’d kill me after school today.”

  I stared at his chest right in front of me. “Yeah, well, I’ll let you live for now so you can show me around New York in a few months. Then I’ll kill you.”

  He laughed and kissed my forehead. “I look forward to it.” Just before slipping into his car, he held his thumb and pinky up as a phone gesture. I nodded.

  He drove away.

  A cloud of gravel dust trailed the Trans Am until it turned onto the highway, then disappeared beyond the tree
s. Eddie Martinez had things to take care of, an existence filled with more important tasks than dealing with an eighteen-year-old girl and her life glitches.

  But as I sat back down in my car, I knew damn well that he’d never forget me. Especially since I had his phone number seeping into my palm. My lip curled. New York couldn’t come fast enough.

  The End

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